Actions Speak Louder Than Words
by PandaFire McMango
Summary: On the way home from Life Support with a very sick Angel, Collins is confrotned by a guy on the train. Then a girl who he's never met changes everything. CollinsAngel, and a small tribute to one of my best friends, Julia. Not my best work, but oh well.


**Ok, her's anohter Collins/Angel...a little sad, but not really, you'll see why! btw, i know that ive been writing these crappy little sotires and not actually updatin g ym big one! I'm sorry, and i promise updates will be coming soon, especially for "Maureen and Her Problem" and "Angel, Mimi's Boyfriend". Don't worry, i'll keep it going, chickies! for now, enjoy this! oh, and just fyi, you might want to listen to Louder Than Words" from Tick, Tick...BOOM! while you read this. just a suggestion, you really don't have to.**

**luvvies!**

Collins POV

"Well...thank you all, but I think we're done for today. Our next meeting will be tomorraw at 9:30, same as always, all right?" The others mumble confirmations that they've heard Paul and stand up, reaching for their bags and jackets. I'm so relieved this is over; the whole meeting was torture, but the last few minutes were the worst. I can't stop myself from glancing sideways and seeing how much energy she's lost from only sitting and talking.

"C'mon, baby, we're going now," I say quietly, standing up and taking Angel's hands. Before I can help her up though, she stands on her own, muscles trembling with even that small exertion. It seems to make her dizzy, and before she falls or staggers I wrap an arm around her waist and keep my other hand tightly around hers. She smiles at me, but even that seems to tire her. I can't believe it. What happened to the person who could do anything any time, anywhere? Angel used to be able to race me or Roger down the block in heels and win, or drum for hours and then walk home with enough leftover energy to run the whole way. Now she can hardly move without getting exhausted.

"Angel? You okay there?" someone asks, and I look up to see Ali, her bag hanging from her shoulder. She looks worried, and I'm not surprised. Out of everyone who is a regular at Life Support, Ali and Angel have formed the strongest connection. They always used to talk and laugh together after the meetings, maybe even during. I don't understand why Angel never sees her away from Life Support, but that's not my business. I know there's a reason.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Al. Just a little tired. And plus, this weirdo is following me around and telling me to rest. Should I call the cops or what?" She squeezes my hand gently and Ali laughs. I smile, but inside all I want is to get Angel out of here and home, where she can rest. Home, where I can do the most to help her. I didn't want her to come to this meeting; hell, it's almost halfway across the city. But she insisted, and I knew I couldn't truly stop her.

She's still Angel.

"Well, I gotta go. See you...whenever." Ali waves and turns to leave. I'm grateful to her for not saying that she would see Angel tomorrow. Becuase I'm pretty sure Angel won't be able to come.

"Let's go, honey," Angel says, and I sigh with releif. Walking slowly, we leave the building, my hands and arm steadying her as much as possible. Still, every time she takes a step, her muscles tremble, and she's started to breathe hard by the time we get to the door. I feel sick to my stomach.

I push the door open and help her outside. The steps seem to never end, and suddenly the walk home looks like a trek across the galaxy. I know Angel can't make it that far if she's this tired now, so I do the only logical thing. I let go of her hands, lean down, and pick her up in my arms, cradling her like I've seen mothers do with their babies. I know why now; it makes you feel like they're safe.

"Hey," she says weakly, but that's about all I get in the way of protests. After another moment, she sighs and lets her head fall onto my shoulder, and she wraps her arms around my neck. I can feel her ribs jutting out and pressing against my chest, but I try to ignore that. I also ignore how light she is, like a little child. Instead I kiss her forehead and whisper, "Go to sleep, babe. It's okay, I'll get us home." She smiles, and her eyes slide shut. Good. Walking as gently as I can, I descend the steps and start towards the train station.

* * *

"It's okay, baby, come on, it's okay," I say softly as I try to wipe some of the sweat off her burning face. She moans and presses closer to me, the heat from her fevered body so instense that i'm afraid we'll both burst into flames. It struck when I was halfway to the station; quick, painful, and furious. These fevers are horrible, even when we're at home. But now, sitting on the subway and still almost half an hour from the house, I wonder if she'll make it through.

Then I ram that thought out of my mind and use my sleeve, for lack of anything better, to wipe the sweat off again.

The train stops again, and I feel like screaming at it to keep moving, to not waste time while Angel's fever mounts and she starts to shiver. The doors slide open and three people get on: two girls and a guy, probably high schoolers. They sit down together, arms around each other's shoulders, laughing about something. They don't seem to have noticed Angel or me: but that's the way the world is now. They just don't notice.

Another person gets on, a man wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. Angel moans again and I focus on her for a minute, trying to soothe and calm her. But I look up just in time to see...

The man in the suit lean down and spit on us before he continues to his seat.

I stare at the ground. It landed on my shoe, sitting there like some evil parasite or bug. Hardly wanting to believe it, I look up and stare at the man, who sees that I'm watching him as he sits down. He sneers and says in an ugly tone, "Faggot."

I involuntarily hold Angel tighter, drawing her up aginst my chest. Before, we would have both talked back to him, made him see and feel as ridiculous as he was. But now Angel can hardly move, let alone speak, and I don't know what to do.

But then again, I suddenly don't have to know what to do. Because the second after the man says that word, one of the two girls in the group of kids jumps up and says, "What did you say to them?"

I stare at her, and so do her friends and the man. Everyone else on the train must notice her too, but they look away. The girl is short and stocky, with long, curly brown hair tumbling down her back and soft brown skin. Even from here I can see the fire in her eyes.

"What did you say?" she insists, her voice snapping like a whip. The man glares at her, his face dry and harsh.

"Miss, if you know what's good for you, don't cross me. Those fags got what they deserve, it's life, don't worry your empty head about it. Now sit down and shut up." He opens his briefcase and takes out a newspaper, already scanning the front page. I'd like to rip his head off right now, but I've got Angel, and I'm not leaving her.

Then, once again, this strange girl takes care of things for me. She reaches over and grabs his paper, ripping it in half and then throwing the pieces to the ground. Her friends are staring with wide eyes now, and the man mouths silently for a moment. Then he stands, eyes blazing.

"You little--" He raises his right hand to do something: slap her, hit her, grab her hair. But she's too fast for him, and within a second, his whole arm is twisted painfully backwards and his eyes are bulging. The girl smiles cooly and hisses, "Don't you _dare_ touch me." Then she lets his arm go, though not without one last painful tug. He gasps in pain and stares at her. I'm frozen; I can only watch what happens now.

"I could call the police on you," he says quietly, but the girl doesn't flinch. They face off for another moment, eyes locked in battle.

And then she wins hands down. He turns away and angrily stalks down the train to another seat. The girl casually reaches over and grabs his briefcase. Still casual as ever, she tosses it forward. It pinwheels in the air, and somehow the latches comes undone. It flies open and papers explode throughout the train, fluttering down to stick on the filthy floor. The man grimaces and looks away, his face red and a vein bulging in his temple.

"Never say that word to _anyone_, you bastard!" she calls. Everyone on the train is trying to ignore what just happened, though quite a few of them are covered in papers or office supplies. This girl, this insane force that's just risked herself to stgand up for two people she's never sen before, turns and walks over to me and Angel, her expression suddenly both kind and worried.

"I'm sorry about that, I just can't stand those kinds of..." she stuggles for a word, but can't find one, so she skips it. "Is...is he all right?"

I finally snap out of my frozen state. I pull Angel closer and feel her shiver violently, feel her burn with heat, feel her body struggle to fight the inevitable. I look at the girl and say quietly, "No. But without people like you, he'd be a whole lot worse. Thank you for that." She smiles, and it's a kind smile, not the cold one she used for that bastard.

"I'm glad that...that I didn't embarrass you or anything. People like that are such...god, I don't know. I guess when I see someone like you, someone who stays with the person they love no matter what, I think the least I can do is stand up for you, for people like you." I stare at her. This girl...how can she read me like this? How can she understand so much so fast? I want to say something, I want to express how truly grateful I am to her. But i can't. The most I can hope for is that she sees it in my eyes.

"I hope he gets well soon," she says softly, and gently puts one hand on Angel's forehead. Anegl stirs and opens her eyes for a moment, and, although I don't know how much she can understand right now, I can swear that she sees this girl and all she's just done for her, for both of us. Then she moans softly and closes her eyes again.

"Julia, come one, it's our stop!" calls one of her friends, and she whirls around. I haven't noticed that the train has stopped.

"Coming, Es!" She smiles once more at me, and then she's gone, her friends smiling at her and wrapping arms around her waist. I watch them go, and then lose sight of them as the door slides shut. I hold Angel a little tighter and kiss her gently, trying to draw out something, anything of this pain. But then I realize, when people like that girl exist, the pain gets just a little more bearable.

* * *

Later tonight, Angel's cooled down a little, and she's conscious, not delirious like earlier. She's lying on her back in bed, still shivering a little but nowhere near as much. I lie on my side next to her, propped up on one elbow, gently stroking her temple with my thumb. She sighs and closes her eyes, then catches my hand and holds it tightly.

"Honey...what happened on the train?" I blink, then shift a little closer to her. She turns on her side and rests her forehead against my chest.

"Well...what do you mean?"

"I think I was a little out of it, but I know that there was this...this girl, and I can't quite make it out, but...Collins, what happened?" I sigh now, and kiss the top of her head.

"Let's just say that for once, you weren't the only Angel around."


End file.
